


All I Want

by INTPSlytherin_reylove97



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BEN LOVES HIS WIFE SO MUCH I CRY, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Ben Solo is Understanding Gentle and TALL, Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Devoted Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Discussion of Pregnancy, Emotional Baggage, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Force Ghost Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Is Rey a Kenobi? Who Knows, Loving Marriage, Married Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Minor Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Miscarriage, Obi-Wan and Anakin family feels, Planet Naboo (Star Wars), Post TROS, Post-Canon, Pregnancy, Redeemed Ben Solo, Rey (Star Wars) Backstory, Rey Needs A Hug, Soft Ben Solo, The Author Regrets Nothing, Wish Day is Christmas in this Universe, Young Rey, possibly, soft reylo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21577597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INTPSlytherin_reylove97/pseuds/INTPSlytherin_reylove97
Summary: "Just can you go back to the beginning—you are telling me there is this...day of celebration called 'Wish Day'?""Yes!” Rey tossed the thrown out items back into the chest. She shut it with a defining snap. “It is the most wonderful day of the year.” Ben blinked at the term; ‘wonderful’ was not a word often used by Rey. Her garden was ‘beautiful’ and the house was ‘grand,’ but rarely did the word ‘wonderful’ tumble from her lips. “No work, no scavenging, and all the good foods. And best of all, wishes!" She stood up, dusted off her pants. "I'm going to check in the lower level. Maybe there are some in the wardrobes or boxes..."Ben blinked at where she stood. He could hear her bare feet, light yet firm, on the tile floor.Wish Day?He never heard of such a thing.~*~Rey insists Wish Day is a holiday, and Ben...well he is pretty damn sure she made it up.A CHRISTMAS INSPIRED CANONVERSE FIC NO ONE ASKED FOR.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 47
Kudos: 179





	1. Wish Day

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S CHRISTMAS TIME. AND WHAT BETTER WAY TO KICK IT OFF WITH SOME CANONVERSE CHRISTMAS INSPIRED FIC GOODNESS.
> 
> Originally this was a oneshot. Now it is a twoshot because of flow reasons.
> 
> Anyways, you know the drill...
> 
> Typos will be fixed later.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

Bulbed lights danced above her head, flicking hello and goodbye, the energy low in her meager home. She needed to save as much power as she could, the winter unkind on the desert planet. Shorter days and longer nights made it impossible to capture light for energy.

She needed to be clever if she wanted to survive.

Fierce Jakku winds kept young Rey up at night, a howl echoing through the cracks of her AT-AT. Licks of the fire kept heat within her reach, her flannel blanket doing little to keep her warm. But she did her best, humming as she munched on her favorite rationed bread—the one with little seeds imbedded at the top and inside.

Closing her eyes, she thought of her wishes.

_A new pillow, one not made of cloth and sand._

_To find a piece on her next scavenge that could get her at least a month’s rations._

_And for her parents to return._

She thought on each wish long and hard, only allowing herself three. Anymore and she’d feel greedy, like the men she saw lingering around the outpost. The way they’d snatch other children scavenger's loot and turn it in for their own gain.

Being like them was wrong, being like them would lead to misfortune.

At least that’s what her friend told her when they both witnessed an encounter.

She then decided to forget about her first two wishes and believe with all her might on her last one. “Please, oh please, oh please, let them come back,” she whispered into her half eaten bread.

Wind whistled, her lights dimmed in and out.

No answer.

But it would come in time; her wishes always did.

Covering her half eaten bread, she stored it back in her food chest. She sealed it closed in fear of desert mice seeking sustenance. She found one of her little friends riffling through her belongings one too many times. Too kind to let them go hungry, she planned on giving the mice some of her leftovers the following morning.

With a heavy heart, she ambled over to her power switch.

Eyes locked on her bulby lights, she enjoyed their dim and shine one last time…

And then pulled the switch down.

Darkness engulfed her AT-AT. The only light in the room came from her dying fire, embers glowing. Shuffling over, she crawled into her hammock. Once curled into a tight ball, she reached for the rope beside her bed.

The shutters before her head creaked open, specks of sand falling on to her. Dusting the grains away, she stared up at the glass view port.

_Stars_.

Stars upon stars shined down at her, the galaxy enveloping her being.

Each star a place, a planet, a moon, a _home_. To someone somewhere.

And one of the stars…that’s where her family _must’ve_ been. Just waiting for her, or rather she waiting for them, as there was no way off the planet without a ship.

As sleep creased her eyes, she made silent quiet wishes to see each and every star…to roam the galaxy until she became stardust and finally found where she belonged.

* * *

Marrying Rey was the best thing Ben Solo could have ever done.

She was both his rock and light, the reason he fought for his life and for others. Rey Solo was his better and complete half in every essence of the word. He loved all of her—the good, the bad, the ugly. The way her eyes could be a breath of soothing cool air one second and a blazing fire of hazel the next. Or how her freckles spattered in lazy constellations, across her cheekbones, her shoulders, her back. 

She was his partner and knew how to rein him in from his own guilt and anger, just as he knew how to reel her in from her pain and aggression. They kept each other balanced, in harmony as the sun and moon rise. Connected, always.

  
Though that did not mean she did not come with her quirks.

  
She ate with little manners, did not know an inch about politics, and thought politeness was a mere suggestion not a requirement. Luckily dinner parties were nonexistent, the two residing in Naboo at his grandmother's lake house. A compromise, if not reward, amongst the remaining Resistance authorities—he and Rey would live in peace, learn and teach the ways of the Force in the outer rim. They'd done their part in the war; tools no longer needed and individuals who had little desire to be involved in fickle government rebuilding. 

  
Never the mind, Rey did not do well with crowds and awaiting faces. Pleasing others and fulfilling expectation took an unexpected toll on her. Her introverted and lonesome upbringing never prepared her for the likes of martyrdom. 

  
She was a scavenger through and through, the skills ingrained into her bones, impossible to wash away.

  
Old scavenger habits die hard; she kept meticulous count of their food, as though she were relying on rations. The absentminded tinkering, she seemingly able to take apart old republic communicators or old radios and computers without realizing the phantom movements of her hand.

  
Muscle memory was her friend, a tool she relied on to ground her. Just like how when they went on their morning walks, she pause at a dying or single plant. She'd pick it up—roots and all—and carry it back to the lake house to plant in their growing garden.

  
Life, all life, mattered to his wife and Ben found the compassion burning within her beautiful.

  
These were the thoughts Ben drilled through his mind when his wife, naturally, up-ended the house.

  
(This happened more than either would like to admit.)

  
He'd been meditating out on the balcony, a scenic view of the lake at his disposal, when he felt a faint tug on the bond.

A loud ruckus of a thud followed from inside the house.

Ben dropped to the floor with a thump, sprawled out on the mat below him.

  
In a hurry, he stumbled to his feet and rushed through the house. He followed the clank and shuffle sounds echoing off the walls, the tell-tell sign his wife was getting hands on something. Possibly an heirloom of the Naberrie family or a long forgotten rust bucket contraption. She was a particularly good finder, the Force shepherding her in the right directions all her life.

  
Ben found her at the end of a hall, arms and head deep into a storage chest. Various wires, books, and knick-knacks were tossed aside, more tumbling from Rey's hand as she scavenged.

"What—" a decorative pillow was thrown in his direction, he waving the object away with the Force, “—sweetheart, what are you doing?"

  
Ignoring the question, she fell back on her shins. A exhausted huff jumped from the back of her throat, Rey evidently frustrated.

  
"Are there no lights anywhere in the kriffing house?"

"Lights?" Ben cocked his head to the side, befuddled by the question. Why would they need lights? There were plenty of lights throughout the house and the day's natural sunshine provided enough illumination before nightfall.

"Yes, bulb-y lights." She demonstrated with her hand, pinching the air between her middle finger and thumb. Her tongue quirked to the side, eyes squinted, as though she could envision the bulbs right into her hand.

"For what?"

"To hang, of course!

* * *

  
When Rey was seven she learned about the best day in the world—Wish Day.

  
"What do you mean a day for wishes?"

  
The man shrugged, his beige robe rippling around his arms. His dark blonde, reddish beard looked soft. She tried to touch it, only for the kind man to lean out of reach ever so slightly. 

  
"A day where you can wish for anything. Sometimes children wish for toys or new holos—" he paused, observing her little home, "—or maybe a new hammock or trade for rations. For everyone it is different."

  
She peered up at him curiously, considering his story. The man seemed honest--he had kind eyes. The eyes she hoped her parents would have. Believed her moma would have. "Who brings the wishes?"

  
The man hummed, crouching down to her level. No sand touched his brown boots, as though he were above the clutches of Jakku. 

  
"They come when the wish is deemed ready for you."

  
"When will I know it is ready for me?"

  
"Oh you will know young one. You will know."

She felt a faint breeze over her head, like a pat, but the man stood still beside her. Not an inch of him moved.

  
"I'm Rey."

  
The corner of his eyes crinkled. "I know."

  
Taking a deep breath, she spat on her palm and offered her hand for a shake. She'd seen the other traders do it at the outpost, she knowing it to be a traditional greeting.

  
His nose wrinkled. 

  
She deflated...only for the man to take her hand.

  
Well, he took her thumb and gave it a small up and down; a mimic of a handshake. 

  
"What's your name?"

Her question caused his lips to twitch, a ghost of a smile.

  
"You can call me 'Ben'."

* * *

"The lights are important!"

  
"Just can you go back to the beginning—you are telling me there is this...day of celebration called 'Wish Day'?"

  
"Yes!” Rey tossed the thrown out items back into the chest. She shut it with a defining snap. “It is the most _wonderful_ day of the year.” Ben blinked at the term; ‘wonderful’ was not a word often used by Rey. Her garden was ‘beautiful’ and the house was ‘grand,’ but rarely did the word ‘wonderful’ tumble from her lips. “No work, no scavenging, and all the good foods. And best of all, wishes!" She stood up, dusted off her pants. "I'm going to check in the lower level. Maybe there are some in the wardrobes or boxes..."

  
Ben blinked at where she stood. He could hear her bare feet, light yet firm, on the tile floor. 

  
_Wish Day?_

  
He never heard of such a thing.

He knew of a Life Day, a Republic Day, and the various festivals held on Endor. But never a Wish Day. If it existed, Ben was sure his mother, father, or Uncle Chewie would have mentioned the holiday.

Yet none of it rang a bell. Lights, wishes, special food…it sounded lovely. A lovely day for a lonely little girl. One Ben could not help but believe she may have made up in a moment of desperation. His wife had a penchant for imaginative games and activities, he likewise.

She once explained she had an imaginary friend named, ‘Ben.’ However this Ben looked nothing like him, both believing the Force may have planted the name in her mind from an early age—a beacon of hope throughout her life.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve never heard of this ‘Wish Day’.”

“Really? I thought everyone celebrated it,” she confessed, leading the way to the stairs on the other end of the hall. “Why wouldn’t they?”

“Because different planets, religions, and species have their own traditions—there is nothing universal—”

“Except the Force!” She was quick to remind him, turning to face him. With ease she walked backwards, not a care or worry to her steps.

Ben rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Except the Force. But not the point.” He grasped her hand, she threading her fingers with his. “The point is…” Her hazel eye blinked up at him, wide and full of wonder. He knew he could push her buttons, force her to realize the day wasn’t a holiday—as much as he was aware—and maybe allow a good old screaming matching to ensue.

But the last time he allowed his stubbornness and judgement get the best of him, he nearly caused the entire galaxy to fall into the clutches of the darkness. So maybe a gentle approach was for the best.

“… the point is…I think maybe you should tell me more about this holiday. So I know how to properly celebrate it.”

She beamed up at him, leading him down the stairs. “I first learned about Wish Day when I was younger, back on Jakku…”

Following her lead, Ben listened to her ramble about her favorite day, unable to look away from the splendor on her face.

* * *

“My wish didn’t come true,” Rey announced the next time she saw the kind man—Ben. “I thought my wishes were supposed to come true?”

He sighed, taking a knee beside her. “Oh young one, wishes do come true. Though in their own time.”

“Time?” she whined, slumping back on her AT-AT. “But I want it to happen now. I want my family now. I’ve been waiting for two years.”

“And they will come for you,” Ben assured her, ruffling her hair. “I am sure of it. But wishes are not demands.”

“Demands?” she echoed, the word foreign on her tongue.

“Demands mean a harsh decree or…or an order,” he explained patiently. With a careful hand he dusted off sand from her shoulders and straightened out her sleeves. “Wishes are not orders, they are desires and dreams, ones that will come true in due time with a bit of hope and faith.”

“Does that mean I have to wait a long time for them to come true?”

“No, some do come true sooner rather than later,” Ben reached behind him, producing a soft fabric sack, “like your pillow.”

A soft gasp escaped Rey.

She’d never had a real pillow, all her own. With loose fabric and sacks, she made her own, but sad always got in the way or the thread came loose—she wasn’t the best with a needle and thread.

Brows pinched together, she peeked behind Ben. There was no sack or bag behind him—then how did he…?

“I have my ways.” He winked, reading her mind. “And I listen. I always listen, Rey.”

“Then did you hear _all_ my wishes?” She hugged her new pillow to her chest—cool to the touch and soft against her cheek. Unlike her rough sacks and prickly grains of sand.

His blue-green eyes softened. “Yes, I did hear all your wishes.”

She shifted on the sand, legs tired from standing. As though sensing her discomfort, Kind Ben sat down beside her, she following his lead. With extra care, Rey made sure her pillow did not touch an inch of sand. Ben’s lips upturned at the sight, though a sadness settled into his eyes—as though he were watching someone else from long ago rather than her. “And what about my most important wish?”

“You want your family.”

“Yes.” She nodded surely, her three buns bouncing on her head. Scooting closer, she rested a hand on him. “I miss them.”

“I miss my family too,” he settled on saying, not answering her question.

“What happened to them?”

Ben sighed tiredly, reminding Rey of a scavenger’s long day at work. But Ben wasn’t a scavenger...she wasn’t too sure what he was if she was being honest. Though that did not bother her. He was the only friend she made on the desert planet and he brought her a pillow and told her about the best day in the entire galaxy. How could she not love him?

“I’m like you in a way,” he began. “I was taken from my parents when I was young.”

“How young?”

“I…I don’t remember,” he confessed, hands twisting together. “But young and I was on my own. Adults looked after me here and there, but I was a bit of an ambitious fellow. I wanted to please my master.”

“Were you a slave?” Her eyes welled at the thought. Her dear friend couldn’t be slave, then he’d be hurt and taken away. She’d have to save him, no matter the cost.

“No, no, no,” he clarified in a hurry, “by ‘master’ I mean ‘teacher.’”

“Oh.”

“And he was like a father to me, but he died when I was young and to honor him I became a teacher to his new student, uh, Ani.” He cleared his throat, ruffling her hair again. He seemed to do that a lot—patting her head, ruffling her hair—playful gestures she never knew until her appeared in her life. “And Ani was my brother, my everything.”

“Where is he?”

He tensed, melancholy but not terribly upset—almost at peace. She’d seen many traders react like this in the event of death. “Gone.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. Tucking her pillow under her arm, she climbed on to Kind Ben’s lap and gave him a big hug. She recalled her Papa doing the same when she was little—well little-er.

“Oh there is nothing to be sorry about, young one.” He patted her shoulder, no giving into the hug. “It happens. People move on, we learn from out mistakes. It’s part of living. And Ani is happy now,” he paused, mouth set in a deep line, “…well happy enough. He has his own concerns with his own family to be worried about.”

“But I thought you were his family?”

“I am, but he was a father and became a grandfather.” Her eyes bulged at the thought. Kind Ben did not look old enough to be a grandpa, then how could his brother be old enough to be a grandpa? It did not make sense, but she did not question. “He needs to watch out for them now, even if it is not the most happy sight.”

“That’s nice…” She pursed her lips, before looking back up at him with a curious glare. “Do you think my father and grandfather watch after me too?”

His gaze soften, another ruffle to her hair. She swatted him away. “I’m sure they do.”

“I can’t wait for them to come back.”

“Little Rey, I promise, your wish will come true—it will just take time. The best wishes do.”

For years she kept the sentiment close to her heart, even into her adulthood with her own husband and home. The best wishes take time, but they’d come true…eventually.

* * *

“A _what_ day?”

“A ‘Wish Day,’” Ben repeated exasperatedly. He glanced behind him, the office door still closed. While he rarely used the room for anything beyond communications with their distant friends, it was nice to sit where his grandmother once sat. Where she made proposals for Senate meetings, where she deliberated over her love for his grandfather, where she planned her impromptu wedding, and where she dreamed of her children. The lives her offspring would lead out into the galaxy, with hope they’d return to the lakes of Naboo.

And through all the odds, she’d be pleased to know they did. Just took some fifty odd years to get there. After all, the best dreams and wishes took time, absolutely worth the painstaking patience.

“She claims it is a real holiday,” he continued, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I can’t find an inkling or trail to such a day.” His eyes darted over to the various holos and ancient books lining the opposite wall. The office only held a small fraction of their collection, several rooms throughout the house possessing bookshelves filled to the brim. Luckily, both he and his wife were avid readers. “And it is not as though I am short on reliable sources.”

The blue holographic image of Rose Tico squinted back at him, a hand resting on her lower back. Her swelled abdomen was unseen in the angle, though Ben did not need to see to know how far along she was in her pregnancy. Finn sent weekly—sometimes daily, which was excessive Ben’s not so humble opinion—updates on his wife’s progress. Rey relished at the calls, excited to meet the newest edition to her ragtag family, the two crowded around the projector each time a message came through.

A relief considering how children became an increasing sore subject between he and Rey.

They tried.

And tried.

And _tried_. For months. A good two years if he was being perfectly honest.

And still, nothing.

Medical droids and physicians checked both, Ben believing he may have been the cause for their struggles to conceive. He was older, been through more physical and mental trauma. It made sense. Children had never been a thought in the past, believing his family line would die off with him. At one point, would _gladly_ let his family line die off with him. Yet here he was, years later, wanting a family of his own with the woman he loved and adored with every fiber of his being.

But in a cruel twist of fate, it was _Rey_.

Hostile womb due to years of malnutrition and poor living conditions.

Nothing she could control. Nothing _he_ could control. Nothing neither could fix; Force Healing had its limitations. Impending death not being one, but a developed condition over time irreversible.

If she’d been bothered by the reality of their situation, Rey hid it well on the surface. But he heard her cries at night, felt the lingering thoughts in the corner of her mind. He absorbed her pain and grief like a sponge, neither knowing where the other began and ended in the spiral of their heartache.

But they were getting better, developing their own community for Force Sensitives of all levels and speeds. Making room for children lost and displaced through the war, a few already making their way over in a few weeks’ time. Their large home would no longer be empty to remind them of the lack of feet echoing on the tile or giggles bouncing off the hallowed halls.

“I’ve never heard of it,” his friend admitted. “Finn and I have visited many planets before and after the war and I have never heard of a ‘Wish Day.’”

Well into her third trimester, Rose did not venture out as much as she’d like to. Base bound, she struggled to entertain herself. His call, he hoped, would offer her a break from Finn’s mother-henning tendencies and allow her to talk to an adult that didn’t purely speak to her stomach like it was great, all knowing oracle.

“Me either.” He winced, biting his lips together. “I…I think she maybe made it up.”

Rose’s confusion melted into soft understanding. Both of their spouses were sheltered from the world in ways neither Rose nor Ben understood. Acclimating the two to traditional forms of living had been a underlying struggle. Naturally, Finn adapted better. Social-able, growing up with other children his age, and a desire to expand his circle proved to be a benefit for him.

Rey on the other hand…well being a presented as a ‘Jedi’ to the Resistance immediately polarized her from others. She wanted friends, but was selective, the Force not always on her side when it projected other’s intentions without fail. Ben didn’t blame her natural inclination to be isolated .

“And if she did?” Rose prompted. “What’s so wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” Ben said too quickly.

“ _Really_?”

“Yes…Maybe?…” Ben groaned, “I don’t know.” He scrubbed his face; he loved his wife, he truly did. But sometimes he wished addressing things like this—like her former fantasy of her parents—did not feel like pulling teeth. “I just…I want her to be happy. And I know she _is_ happy, but I can’t help the urge to point out this holiday just isn’t real! That it’s just another coping mechanism.”

“We all have our ways of coping, Ben. If anyone knows that, it’s you and Rey.”

He grunted, not exactly an agreement. An acknowledgement if anything.

“I thought Rey and I were past this.” His eyes stared past Rose’s blue image to the portrait hanging behind her.

An oil painting of Padme Amidala Naberrie stared down at him. Eyes mirroring his.

No one told him he had her eyes. He found out for himself when uncovered the piece.

He wasn’t sure when the portrait was made—she looked young, younger than when she and Anakin married. But not young enough to be from her days as a queen. Based off the accounts from the Old Republic, she was a stern, kind, and loved leader. Fought for her people until her last days. A true queen, even after her term ended.

Briefly he pondered what his grandmother would do. If her husband deviled into childish fantasies—harmless fantasies—for his own wellbeing.

It didn’t sound like something Anakin would do—at least not what he knew based off his grandmother’s journals. But it was a thought.

What would Padme do?

He did not have his mother to rely on. Nor any other relative. And those he did know were not always the best role models. But Padme…well he didn’t know Padme personally and she was the only Skywalker he knew that kept an account of their personal affairs.

And he found himself more often than not gleaning on her words these days. While she had not been Force sensitive, the woman was wise, far too wise for her years and too bold to be contained. At moments he’d wonder if her words were her way to watch over him, years later, when the galaxy found peace. When he could be worried over being an attentive partner rather than if he’d be killed in his sleep. For when he achieved a domesticity she longed for though could never live to experience.

Padme would be supportive. She’d find those damn lights and hang them up herself even though she knew her husband could easily do it with the Force. She want him to feel loved through her actions.

Ben’s focus fell back on his friend, the woman already budging into a knowing smile. “Nothing is wrong with the fact she may have made up this holiday.”

Rose grinned. “That’s the answer I like to hear!” She gave a half shrug. “For all you know, you might end up liking this ‘holiday.’ There is nothing wrong with making new traditions with your wife, Ben.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Ben shook his head with a chuckle, “I bow down General Tico.”

“ _Babe, I took a poll around the base! We have a tie between the names, Anah and Ellie!”_

Rose stared deadpanned back at Ben. “I need to go—my husband apparently asked the entire base on what to name our daughter. This is what I get for being a General and choosing to live on base. You and Rey had the right idea to run away.”

He refrained a frown at the phrase ‘run away’. They chose to leave, for the betterment of the Force and their own wellbeing. A compromise to no longer be anyone intentional or _un_ intentional weapons. Not everyone understood this; not even their closest friends.

“I vote Ellie—it has a nice ring with Tico,” Ben chimed in, knowing Rose would be unamused.

“Will note,” she gritted. Giving one final wave, she ended the transmission.

His eyes darted back to the portrait of Padme. “Would you have ran away with grandfather if you had the choice?”

The imagine said nothing back. Regal, kind, and ethereal. Captured in a time he’d never understand.

But she didn’t need to say anything for Ben to know the answer.

He nodded once, sure. “That’s what I thought.”


	2. A Wish for You & I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Typos will be fixed later!
> 
> Enjoy :D

* * *

Rey had to make her own bulby lights for her first few Wish Days.

Her first attempt broke a couple of days after the holiday. She’d been taking them down when the crate she stood on gave out. Lights came tumbling down with her and the glass bulbs broke. She stole the lights from inside a few computers and command boards. Small and compact bulbs, easy to travel through the desert without too much damage. Painstakingly, she stranded the wires together and connected them to her power source.

It took her weeks to complete.

Yet all her work was destroyed in seconds.

She cried for days after. Luckily, Kind Ben was there to assure her she’d find more lights for the next Wish Day.

And she planned this time, picking the perfect sturdy bulb lights she’d find during her scavenging.

One here and there, testing and seeing if they worked. And slowly she rebuilt her strand of lights, it growing over the year. Kind Ben came for visits, helping her with wires she did not know how to reroute and hanging up her lights as Wish Day came closer.

“Do you have any wishes this year, young one?” Kind Ben asked as he screwed a loose bulb tighter. The light flickered back on, illuminated dimly.

Rey hummed, scratching her head with the end of a rusted pair of wire clippers. “I think…a needle and thread?”

“A good one.”

“Maybe a belt? To hold my bag.”

“Useful.”

She sighed, knowing her friend would not be pleased with her third wish. “And…for my parents to return.”

Kind Ben paused his work, concern in his eyes. He never once mentioned he did not like her waiting or wishing for her parents, but he expressed enough displeasure in his reactions. Wandering the outskirts of the outpost taught her to read people well and quick, to prevent any unwanted attention. As much as Kind Ben tried to hide his emotions, she could sense what he was thinking and feeling with great clarity.

She never brought up this little phenomenon, but he knew. She could tell by the curious and clever glint in his eyes.

At her final wish for Wish Day Kind Ben nodded, though did not comment his disappointment. “A good wish, Little Rey,” he said instead and continued to help her with her lights.

Though his pretty blue-green eyes were not on their work at hand.

His eyes were on the tally marks on the wall. One for each day she’d been on the desert planet. Each a day of waiting and surviving; each another day closer to when she’d see her parents again.

“You know young one, not all families are the ones you are born into.” He hung up the last strand in the corner of her AT-AT. “Sometimes our families are the ones we create by our own doing, that’s were we find where we belong.”

“But I belong to my Mama and Papa,” she said, not understanding how anyone else could be her family if they weren’t her Mama and Papa or a grandma and grandpa. That’s how families worked, right? “I don’t belong to anyone else.”

“Being in a family is not about belonging to anyone, but knowing who cares for you,” Kind Ben corrected in his stern yet light manner. He always spoke as though each word out of his mouth was a lesson to be learned. Nothing was a simple conversation.

Rey loved this and hated this about her friend.

“Who cares for you?”

Kind Ben was stumped by her answer, blinking down at her in awestruck wonder.

It must have been something he never thought about.

“I care for myself these days.”

“So you belong to no one?”

“I belong…I belong to myself.”

“That’s sad.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Yes, it is Young Rey.”

She and Kind Ben did not speak about families for the rest of the day. Rey thought she’d be pleased with this, but found herself missing their talks. It was almost as though Kind Ben wanted to be…well wanted to be her family.

But maybe it was wishful thinking.

* * *

“Would lanterns work?”

“No.”

“How about candles?”

“No.” Rey shook her head. “It _has_ to be bulb-y lights.”

Ben inhaled deeply, willing himself to patience. They searched the basement high and low, no sign of the lights Rey wanted so desperately. He found plenty more portraits and belongings of his ancestors and other long forgotten items of the Naberrie family, yet nothing to help them in their celebration. With great effort, Ben had to lead Rey back up the stairs to their living quarters empty handed.

Opening his eyes again, he found his wife staring up at him expectantly. “I don’t know what tiny bulb-y lights look like, Rey.”

“Like the ones in computers or operating boards.”

“You mean _machinery_ lights?” Ben’s eyebrows jumped. Most units switched to thinner LED and plasma lights, all contained in their own manufactured bulbs, though nothing quite like how Rey explained. Machinery bulbs were rare to begin with…and she was using these lights to hang from the walls and ceilings?

That was a fire hazard; a disaster waiting to happen.

“Yes!” She exclaimed. “That’s what they’re called—but I can’t find any anywhere.”

“Because manufacturing ceased years ago. Before either of us were born because they caused operating boards to go on the fritz.”

She hummed, a bit downtrodden at the news. “Wait—aren’t there some on the Falcon?”

“I never said my father wasn’t one to partake in safety hazards.” Ben shook his head—his father should have replaced several pieces of the Falcon ages ago. It was no surprise the hunk of junk was flying death trap. “But that doesn’t mean you go in there and start tearing things apart to find these lights.”

She ducked her head down, playing the part of dejected. “I wasn’t going to…”

Ben raised his eyebrows, not believing her.

Rey huffed, arms flopping to her side. “I wasn’t going to tear it apart _too_ _much_ , damn it! Just enough to get a few.”

“No.” He shook his head once. “We can find an alternative—we just need to think.” They found themselves outside of their bedroom, Ben nudging the door open for her. “Does it need to be little tiny bulb-y lights, or are you just being stubborn about this because that’s how you’ve always done it?”

Her eyes begged to snap back at him for his gentle taunt. However, the tension in her gaze and shoulders eased as she allowed herself to think. To consider his question with genuine thought. Lips worried between her teeth, she resigned herself to the truth—one he had an inkling of, sensing it from the depths of her memory.

“He never said anything about bulb-y lights,” she confessed with a half pout. “Just lights to hang.”

Ben pressed his lips together. “I think I have an idea…but will you be okay if candles are involved?”

A brief moment of hesitation flashed in her eyes, an objection on the tip of her tongue. Ben understood the resistance; this was holiday she must have celebrated numerous times. One she spent more often alone in the isolation of the desert and her fallen AT-AT. Whether she realized it or not, Rey had her own traditions, ones she followed with great diligence. It was part of who she was and her faith.

Ben coming in and celebrating with her, changing some of her usual planning, was bound to be uncomfortable. Opening up another piece of herself to him, a single stone in the mosaic of Rey not yet turned over. A relieving and terrifying truth.

“Okay,” she uttered quietly, “that’s okay. Sometimes…sometimes old things need to change. I’m okay with this change.”

Ben’s lips upturned, proud of his wife. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her hairline—a soft gesture he found himself doing on instinct. “I made a promise to get you lights and I am going to get you lights.”

Her adoring smile was all he needed to put his plan in motion.

* * *

Amongst the pile of wires, Rey chewed on her lower lip. She’d been working on a particularly stubborn switchboard, one she planned to fix up and turn in for some rations. Watching the other traders through the years, Rey learned the high priced pieces were functional and cleaned. She was determined to make all her junk be one step towards high priced, even if it meant burning her finger tips and accidentally slicing open her hand.

Luckily, Kind Ben stopped for a visit, he remarking on her lack of decorations.

She eleven and growing up rapidly, thought maybe it was time to stop celebrating the holiday. From murmurs and whispers around the outpost, Rey learned holidays were meant to be spent with family and loved ones; even the crusty old gamblers and drunks had ladies or lads to return home to, someone to miss them while they’d been gone, even if it is only fleeting. Why was she to spend her favorite holiday alone, without a family? Better to not celebrate at all.

However, Kind Ben was having none of it, digging through her belongings for her lights.

“Why do we hang the lights for Wish Day?” She asked, glaring at where King Ben hung the first strand of her lights.

He was starting above her stove, the wrong spot. Rey always started the strand above her bed, where she let the extra lights dangle to the side like pouring water.

“So the stars could see us.” Kind Ben’s answer was too the point.

“But why would the stars need to see us?” She dropped the wires, frustrated. “Can’t they see us just fine? They are stars with their own light.”

“Because that is how it is,” Kind Ben moved further around her home, hanging up more of her lights, “They shine for us. We shine for them. It’s how we show we are alive and waiting and wishing.”

“But no one hears my wishes.”

“That’s not true,” Kind Ben corrected, stepping up to her. His blonde-reddish eyebrows bunched together, thoroughly offended. “I hear your wishes. I am always listening. Never doubt that.”

“But you are never here enough.” She knew she was being mean, she knew she was being stubborn, but she needed him to know how she felt. For her friend to understand how lonely she could be.

“I try my best to be here when I can, young one. It’s difficult sometimes.”

Another ‘why’ was on the tip of her tongue, but Rey held back. She didn’t need to lose the only soul she knew, the only one she could call a friend.

So Rey remained quiet and focused on her switch board. Kind Ben hung up her lights.

She did not realize he left until the cool air returned to her home.

The next year she made sure to hang her lights, not questioning why.

She tried not to think of how Kind Ben’s visits became less frequent after the encounter.

* * *

“This…works,” Rey conceded, dropping down her arms full of blankets and basket of their favorite snacks. “I didn’t think it would, but it does.”

Clear glass jars were scatted at various levels through out the balcony, candles placed in each, waiting to be lit at nightfall. Best of all, the candles were in clear view of the sky, the lights able to greet the stars. Just like she wanted.

“Thanks,” Ben smiled softly down at her. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I do, I do,” she murmured, awe settling in her hazel eyes. Her fingers danced over the smooth glasses in her reach, as though she were afraid to truly touch each piece.

He wouldn’t be surprised if she was, Rey not the most gentle. She’d broken more plates and drinking glasses than Ben could count, overestimating her strength and underestimating her clumsiness.

She walked along the inner perimeter of the balcony, observing his work as he placed a few more candles in their new home. Her loose, thick grey tunic sagged at her shoulders, though she made no move to adjust her sleeve. Contrary to the winter season, the weather in Naboo remained warm, though not scalding or reminiscent of a desert. A mist greeted them in the morning, a welcoming sun spent the day shining down upon them, and a light breeze brush through in the afternoon. A happy medium of all their desires for a home.

Rey loved she could always be outside and never feel stifled, but content. Her thoughts did not linger on this, however, melancholy waves thrumming through their bond.

“You…you never said who taught you about this holiday,” Ben ventured, knowing Rey was falling victim to her own turbulent thoughts. “In fact, you’ve never mentioned it until now. Why’s that?”

They’d been married for four years, brought together in a small ceremony held not long after the final battle. He understood the neglect to celebrate the holiday during war; days sometimes passed without account. Time of splendor was rare in days past, most celebrating their Name Days during those grueling times.

But years had passed with little mention of her apparent favorite holiday. Such a sudden adamancy for the day caused Ben to wonder.

“I learned about Wish Day as a child,” she began, unfolding the blankets she brought out with her. Gently she laid them out on the floor, around the unlit firepit Ben created in the middle of their circle. “My friend…” a pause hung in the air, debating her next words, “Kind Ben—he was the one who told me about the holiday,” she rushed out.”

Ben’s head cocked to the side, reminding himself to listen and not immediately jump to conclusions. “Your childhood imaginary friend?”

“When you put it like that is sounds silly.”

“It’s not silly,” Ben said patiently, “I am trying to understand.”

Sensing his earnest intentions, she continued with less reluctance. “Kind Ben told me about this day where you get to make wishes—any wish your heart desires—and one day they’d come true. Pretty lights are hung up and fires are made, and you get to eat your favorite foods. It’s a time for being happy and grateful for what you have even if it’s not much.”

Ben blinked, surprised by the quaintness of the festivities. “And did your wishes come true?”

“Yes,” she said full of conviction. A innocent gleam shined in her eye, a reminder of her humble beginnings. “Every single one. Some just took longer than others.”

Ben set down the last glass jar, and went to join his wife. “Which one took the longest?”

“For my family to return for me.”

The weight of the wish stepped on his chest, Ben knowing the truth of her parents. Junk traders, drunks, nobodies who abandoned a child. An innocent, loving, and patient child who only wanted to belong.

“And they did,” she supplied, holding her hand out to him, “because you came back for me. Always.”

He grasped her awaiting hand, joining her on the laid out blankets. She curled to his side

“He always told me the best wishes take time, and you were worth waiting for.”

No matter how many times she expressed her love for him, Ben was in awe of Rey. Words failed, he choosing to press a gentle kiss on the back of her hand.

* * *

Rey wasn’t too sure when Kind Ben stopped visiting.

But she realized it once Wish Day rolled around for the ninth time.

He wasn’t there to help her hang her lights, nor there to ask about her wishes. His gentle smiles were scarce most days, she seeing him once every full moon cycle.

“I’m tired, young one,” he explained once. One of his last visits, though Rey did not know it at the time. “My kind are not meant to linger for so long.”

At age seven and at age sixteen, she’d be perplexed by his phrases—the use of the term ‘his kind.’ Her dear friend resembled her appearance, a humanoid. But there was an underlying difference, one Rey could never put her finger on.

“But I miss you when you’re gone,” she confessed, sounding younger than her sixteen years. For the rest of the outpost she needed to be older, stronger, and stern in order to survive. Being guarded was the only way to make a life. However with Kind Ben she allowed tension to ease, able to relax and be herself in his presence. Acting more childlike than ever before. “You’re my friend.”

‘ _Only’_ went without saying, hanging in the air between them.

“One day you won’t miss me.”

There was not an inkling of a lie in his words. Blue-green eyes meet her gaze, weight in their silence and connection.

“That’s not true.” She hated the way her voice cracked, like a broken child or operating board panel. “I always miss you when you go.”

Sighing, he sat down beside her outside her AT-AT. Both looked ahead to the dying sun, early winter winds beginning to pick up despite it being mid-afternoon. His hand rested on her shoulder, though it felt light as a feather.

“One day you will have your family.” Her heart picked up at the words, yet his weariness kept her joy at bay. “A husband to love you—to love every part of you. The good and the bad. He’d be your other half and wear that title with pride. You’ll have a daughter you’d dance with under the stars and son to plant with you in your gardens.”

“That sounds silly.”

“But it’s true.”

“All those things sound far away,” she breathed, the thought of having a husband and children so far off. She couldn’t even fathom the thought of man loving her—all of her—enough to want a family with her. Men at the outpost rarely spared her a glance, she simply referred to as the ‘girl’ or ‘feral girl’ or ‘desert rat’ if they wanted to be a bit exotic.

What made her gut twist with apprehension and looming, girlish excitement was Kind Ben spoke as though he _knew_ the man who’d be her husband; conviction and vision on his tongue. A foresight into a future she did not dare entertain.

After all she was on a desert planet, waiting for her parents.

But she could not help her curiosity. “What’s he like?”

“Who?”

“My future husband.”

Kind Ben hummed under his breath, mouth in a pensive line. He considered his words carefully, as though he needed to reach into the depths of his mind to see an accurate picture of the man. “Understanding…gentle…and tall.”

In that moment Rey decided she wasn’t too sure if she’d like her husband if that was all Kind Ben could come up with.

“You’ll be too busy with your own family to miss me.”

“I doubt that,” she said, definitive. “I’ll always miss you when you’re gone.”

His eyes crinkled, tears stained the corners. Her friend made no move to wipe away his waterworks, choosing to let them run freely. With a tender hand he ruffled her hair once; an unspoken promise in the gesture.

Her statement rang true in a few short weeks, Kind Ben not present the day before Wish Day. And then every day after until she found herself far from Jakku and living in a lake house in the picturesque Naboo.

* * *

“Why did you stop celebrating Wish Day?”

“The war,” was her simple answer. A half shrug bounced through Rey’s shoulders, she tearing into her bread absentmindedly. “And it wasn’t the same after…”

Her hands paused.

Ben looked up from his own plate of bread and blue-tarts, concern pinching in his brows. “After what sweetheart?”

“After Kind Ben stopped visiting.” A small smile ghosted her lips. “He made the day special. Always making sure my little wishes came true.” She chuckled under his breath. “It’s strange to think he was right about you.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Me? What could your imaginary friend possibly know about me?”

“How you are kind, loving, and tall,” she teased, only for her glee to melt away. “He had a knack for that. Predicting things, an odd sense of anticipating I could never comprehend.”

His brain froze—Premonition? Oddly timed visits? Rey believing the man to be an imaginary friend…parts that would not normally add up were making odd sense when looked through a different lenses.

“Rey, sweetheart,” Ben set down his plate, facing his wife full, “have you ever considered that maybe…maybe Kind Ben was real?”

* * *

She remembered the holiday while wrapped up in Ben’s arms, the rest of the world asleep.

Dried tearstains remained on her cheeks, Rey never making the effort to clean her face after receiving the news.

Knowing she may never be a mother caused her to reflect on her own childhood. The emptiness, the longing, and the small sparks of joy she received from the little things.

Such as Kind Ben and Wish Day. A silly day she had not celebrated since her mid-teens, but one she still kept diligent account of in her adulthood. She’d make a silent wish on the day, keep to herself and close to her chest; no one needed to know. No one needed to know the Wish Day before she found herself wrapped up with the Resistance she wished to know the truth of her parents, to find a way off the planet to go find them. Nor did they need to know the following year she wished for the troubled and handsome man she loved to be by her side, for ever and always. For them to be together and away from the galaxy’s reaches.

Her wishes, no matter how specific or broad, had a way of coming true.

A spark of thought burned within her.

She could…she could _wish_ to become a mother.

Have the daughter Kind Ben spoke of with a smile, or maybe the son he said would enjoy gardening as much as her. Wish for her husband to become a father, a job he feared yet longed for in silence.

Whisper the wish, hands clasped under her chin, and between bites of her favorite bread.

And maybe…just maybe…someone would listen.

So she checked the calendars and times wanting to make sure she had the date right and wasn’t going to miss it this go around.

Only to find herself a couple of days shy of the holiday.

Perfect timing, as always.

* * *

“What do you mean ‘real’?” Rey leaned away from him, puzzled by the suggestion. “He was an imaginary friend—”

“Who could bring you real items,” Ben interjected before she knocked down the theory, “and came to visit and disposed words of wisdom.” He hunched a little, meeting her gaze. “Think about it…what does that sound like?”

She squinted, disbelief etched on her face. “No—I know what you are thinking and that’d be impossible.”

“We’ve done and seen many impossible things.”

Her stern demeanor faltered, face softening. His hand brushed away a stray hair from her face, tucking the strand behind her ear. Catching his wrist, she leaned into his hand.

“But I…” she licked her lips, carrying her voice above a whisper, “…I didn’t know about the Force—that I was sensitive to it—until you.”

“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t always around you,” Ben countered, picturing a young Rey going through her life where the Force waited at bay. Waiting for the right moment; waiting for him, for _them_ , to awaken the bond.

“Kind Ben…I never met him in my life,” Rey sighed, scrubbing at the corner of her eye, “how could he possibly visit me? Aren’t I supposed to have a connection to them when they were alive or through ancestry?”

“Maybe there is another reason,” Ben ventured, “Do you remember what he looked like…because surely he couldn’t also been named Ben,” he said teasingly.

Hugging her blanket closer, Rey blinked down at her hands. She fiddled with her wedding ring, an simple band matching Ben’s. A small piece of the same kyber crystal was embedded in the rings, forever connected, the same as Rey and Ben. They made their rings for each other long after their wedding, using simple red string around their left wrists as a temporary place holder. Yet both kept the red strings on their nightstands, a reminder of all the steps they had made to get where they were.

“He had a blondish, red hair,” she began, eyes firmly shut. “He seemed tall when I was younger, but he wasn’t much taller than me when he came for one of his last visits. He wore robes similar to Luke,” she paused, “he may have been a Jedi, though I wouldn’t have known it at the time.”

Ben’s mind raced with the information, thinking of the possible Jedi who could have watched over Rey. Help make this holiday special for her…

And his mind led him to one person.

A Jedi noble and loving, one who lived compassionate even during dark times.

“And he called himself, ‘Kind Ben’?” He asked, feeling a warmth at the thought of the Jedi he had in mind.

“His called himself ‘Ben,’ but I called him ‘Kind Ben’—he hated it, but let it be. He had the kindest blue eyes I’d ever seen. Sometimes I wished he was real, and my family, because then maybe everything would have been a little better.”

His heart constricted at his wife’s gentle melancholy.

An echo of a girl who simply wanted a special day where she did not struggle to survive.

Thankfully, kind eyes watched over. Eyes always watchful over the Skywalker family, whether they be a Skywalker by birth or through marriage. Kenobi wanted to make sure all his family was safe, even the young scavenger girl who’d be his best friend’s— _brother’s_ , Anakin was a brother of the heart—grandson’s wife. The one who’d help break the family’s curse with her own love and compassion. A bringer of hope.

Feeling a chill dance along his spine, Ben looked up from Rey’s calm remembrance.

Standing a few feet behind his wife, looking just as Rey described him, was Obi-Wan ‘Ben’ Kenobi.

Blue eyes shined with relief and joy, locked on Rey, who remained unaware.

As though finally realizing Ben was there as well, Obi-Wan’s eyes traveled to him.

‘ _Thank you_ ,’ he mouthed to the caring Force Ghost.

Obi-Wan nodded once, a smug if not tender smile on the corner of his lips. His hand hovered over Rey, a faint wind chilling through the air.

She shivered, hugging her blanket closer.

Finding her hands, Ben held each in his hand. “Rey, sweetheart, what do you wish for?”

Inhaling deeply, she squeezed his hands. “Truly?”

“Of course.”

“To have our own family.” She opened her eyes, tears free to fall. “That’s…that’s what this is all for Ben. So I can wish…” she exhaled shakily, unable to finish.

“I know,” he breathed, his own eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I know, Sweetheart.”

“And it’s my fault,” she croaked. Her hands dropped his, wiping away at her face. “Because I can’t…and a _family_ is all I ever wanted. I just didn’t know at the time, it was _this_ family I wanted so badly.”

Ben swallowed the lump in his throat, eyes darting between her and Obi-Wan.

The Force Ghost remained neutral, offering only his presence.

And it was enough to give Ben the strength he needed.

Wiping away her tears with the pad of his thumb, Ben pressed his lips to her temple, closing his eyes. “I…I want it _so_ much too. And it hurts…but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen.” He pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. Gradually, her eyes blinked open, connecting with his. “The best wishes take time.” A shaky sob left his wife, comfort thrumming through the bond at the familiar words. “But, sweetheart, they _always_ come true.”

She smiled fully, dropping her forehead against his collarbone. Her snotty nose pressed against his skin, yet Ben could only hold her closer.

.

.

.

.

.

From the distance Obi-Wan smiled.

The girl reminded him so much of his Anakin, it was easy to care for her. To fall under the spell of her hazel eyes and natural compassion, he knew the boy would one day fall hard and fast for her once she matured. He kept an eye on the Skywalker child since his birth, unable to help due to the will of the Force. But he tried his best where he could…and he could try for the girl.

And he did, in the form of Wish Day.

A way to cope, for both Obi-Wan and the girl—where he could lend a helping hand and Rey could have a spot of light in her life.

Others would call it silly, but he called it meaningful.

And while he could not make all her wishes come true, Obi-Wan knew enough of the past and the future to know the way. To know where the bloodline would lead for generations and generations…

Little did the couple know their wish was already in motion.

* * *

**_Years later…_ **

****

“Why do we put out the lights?” Seven year old Lucia peered up at her father as he carefully set out candles on the balcony.

Glancing around, she saw the other students worked to put out candles on the further end. Mama and Papa housed young Force Sensitives, many children of all ages helping set up for the annual holiday. Her baby brother Tobin remained at the center of the chaos, surrounded by blankets. He was fascinated with the blinking lights, reaching up with his chubby hands.

Luckily Aunt Rose remained nearby to keep him at bay with her own newborn in a sling.

“So the stars can see us, Luce,” her Papa explained patiently, this not the first time he explained Wish Day to a young child. “And we can see them.”

“Do the stars make the wishes come true?” she asked, handing him another candle from her crate.

He set in the glass and lit the wick. “Sometimes, but it is a nice gesture. A reminder our ancestors are watching out for us.”

“Like Nana?” While Lucia had never met her Nana, she knew of Leia. She’s been told she was a general, but Lucia liked to just call her Nana.

“Yes,” her Papa ruffled her hair, the braid he made that morning mused, “just like Nana.”

“Have any of your wishes come true before?” Lucia could not help but be skeptical; she once over heard the older kids call the day a joke during forms. A niggle of doubt settled in her mind, yet she knew her Papa could take it away with one answer.

“Of course,” he answered, staring down at her as if she were silly, “how do you think you got here?”

“You wished for me?” Lucia’s eyes widened; she didn’t realize her Mama and Papa wanted her that bad.

“ _Yes_ ,” her Papa smiled down at her. Taking a knee, he placed both hands on her shoulders, his eyes meeting hers.

She never realized it, but her and her Papa had the same eyes. Like Great-Grandma Padme.

“Your Mama and I wanted you so bad, so we wished on Wish Day for you, our little baby girl. Wished for you with all our hearts.”

“And here I am.” She pointed to herself.

His mouth quirked to the side, nodding. Strands of her Papa’s dark and white hair bounced, just like Tobin’s. “ _Exactly_.”

“Is that why we celebrate Wish Day? So our wishes can come true?”

“Not just for our wishes to come true, but to appreciate what we do have, Luce,” Papa glanced around the balcony, soft chatter in the air as students and family worked to get ready for the night’s festivities. “And for what has happened and what is to come. We wish with genuine hearts, kiddo.”

“But what if my wish doesn’t come true?”

Papa’s eyes softened, just like how they did whenever he saw her Mama.

She felt a breeze brush her shoulder, a comforting touch.

Yet no one was there. Just her and her Papa.

“The best wishes always come true.”

**~*~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brb, going to go cry now.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed this little fic; thought it would be nice to write a nice little canonverse Christmas inspired fic.
> 
> Have a wonderful holiday season readers! :D

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are appreciated; love discussing the fic with readers :D
> 
> And if anyone cares, I did cry multiple times over how much these two just love each other.


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